Moments of Pleasure
by PeppermintP4tty
Summary: Paige and Emily: a continuation of where we last saw them;rated T at the moment, probably change to M later
1. Chapter 1

**I haven't written for a while, finding this last half a season hard going for Paige and Em, but this came to me, so I thought I'd give it a go. It may continue. I'm not sure where yet, but I wanted to put it out there to see what people thought. It's hard-going I think, so I won't say 'enjoy'. It's set sort of from where we are now, perhaps just a few weeks after the Season 4 finale.**

IT'S been threatening showers all day. But now Paige is getting nervous because it looks like it's going to rain – and not just rain – it feels like something more apocalyptic than just rain. The thunderclouds had started to build up around 4pm, about the same time as she had the idea to ride over to Emily's. By 6pm when she finally lifted her bike out of the garage, the rain still hadn't fallen. She lifts her eyes from the road in front of her and sneaks a look overhead. The clouds are a lowering purple-black now, pregnant with rain, heavy with lightening and there's a static in the air that's making the ends of her hair fly away. As she cycles through the park she notices the swings hanging motionless. The light looks bruised, the seesaw standing at a dead angle; there's no one around, the town is hushed, still, as if asleep.

Emily watches from her window, her heart speeding up as Paige loops round the corner, riding with effortless grace, faster than she should, more daring than Emily would like, as she's told her more than once. Not that Paige would listen, she'd just laugh at her, stop her concerns with kisses, until Emily laughed along with her and Paige would persuade her to ride double on her bike and they'd tear through the streets of the town _(But not now. Not anymore)._

Emily's head is pressed against the window as she watches from her window-seat. She shouldn't be here: she should be getting ready, she has a date tonight: a first date and she should be 'dressing to impress'. Hanna's already been on the phone, Aria came over earlier with Ali to offer advice on her sexiest top to wear. None of them cautioned against it, none of them suggested that perhaps her heart is too bruised and sore, that maybe she's a little too broken to start this whole business of _dating_, of opening up her heart again. Not one of them mentioned Paige or how maybe Emily should give her another chance – a chance to explain herself, to prove herself. Although what she could do, Emily isn't really sure. The only one who hasn't said anything, who, if Emily were honest with herself, she noticed giving her a little sideways glance that Emily took to mean: 'take it easy, be careful, _what about Paige?_' is Spencer. She hasn't even heard from Spencer today _(And what exactly does _that_ mean__?)_

And now here comes Paige, on her bike and Emily knows how she'll look when she comes to the door with her _(perfect) _face slightly red, tendrils of her hair that she's pushed into a rough ponytail at the back of her neck slightly damp from sweat that Emily _(used to)_ likes to play with, running her fingers lazily across the back of Paige's neck, feeling her shiver, watching her cheeks turn redder, _(when she used to lean forward to kiss the hollow of her throat and taste the sweat still lingering there)_.

Paige looks up at the window and Emily draws back quickly, unsure if she's seen her, watching closely as Paige lays down her bike on the Fields' perfect lawn, smoothes her hair with her hands and wipes the sweat off her palms on the legs of her jeans.

It's Pam who opens the door to Paige, who is flushed from her ride. She looks down at the floor (like she used to when she first started dating Emily_)_ and despite herself, Pam's heart goes out to her and, against her better judgement, when she speaks, Pam's voice is kind,

"Paige. Hi."

Paige stutters a greeting out, "I wondered if Emily … if she .." she takes a deeper breath and meets Pam's eyes, "Is she in? Can I see her?"

Pam notices for the first time the letter that Paige is turning over and over in her hands. She knows the writing, similar envelopes are _(were)_ pinned up on Emily's notice-board, usually containing hastily-scribbled cards, or notes on pages torn from the back of school note-books. Pam's never read them, but she's seen Emily reading them, seen the way she blushes a little, or laughs and catches a breath until she realises her mom's in the room.

Pam closes her eyes for a moment, looks away. Paige has a way of looking directly into your face, as if to test what's brewing there, and then just as quickly look away, so she's never caught staring. It's unsettling, a little unnerving and was one of the things she found hard when Emily and Paige started dating _(that, along with her dreadful father)._ But Pam has warmed to Paige, has watched the way she was with Emily, how she treated her with infinite care, with infinite love. But she knows something has happened to blow them off course. She doesn't know what, but for whatever reason, her daughter has asked that she doesn't allow Paige into the house and so that is what she'll do. Even against her better judgement. Though she still thinks,

_(Damn, Emily, you should face this yourself, not have me do your dirty work. Poor girl looks like she hasn't slept in days. That's not going to help her chances of getting into Stanford. I hope her mother notices and takes some care of her.)_

She says, "I'm sorry, Paige. She doesn't want to see you."

Paige's breath catches and she makes a strangled noise in the back of her throat, tears come to her eyes, but Pam sees her clench a fist, take a step back and a deep breath and it takes all of her strength as a mother not to lean forward and take her in her arms and hold her.

Paige's body is her great betrayer. For years she built up a wall around herself, training herself to keep her emotions in check, to put on a front, a sneer, so that people thought her arrogant, cold, angry, a bully. But if they'd looked closely, they'd have seen the slump in her shoulders and the stoop of her back that she couldn't help but happen every time someone whispered about her, or called her out, every time they laughed about her, or jeered at her. They'd have noticed the way her body responded when Emily touched her, when she ran her hand across her back, or along her arm, when she held her hand and leaned forwards with a smile to kiss the corner of her mouth

_(don't think that now, don't think it here)_

instead the tears spill over and she hands Pam the letter,

"Please. Can you give her this?"

Pam hesitates, then takes the letter. She studies the envelope and by the time she looks up again, Paige is wheeling away on her bike. The rain's started falling now and she can see it picking on Paige's shirt, she has a mother's fear and calls after her,

"Paige! Be careful!"

Emily's up at the window again, watching as Paige cycles away. She watches her to the end of the road where she swings a wild right-hand turn into the on-coming traffic. Emily's breath catches in her throat in fear, but Paige is all right. She rides like she has no fear, it's when the fear comes that accidents happen and Emily remembers the night Paige came to apologise to her for scaring her in the pool. How she was, small, fearful, shaking with cold and wet-through. How she told Emily she hated herself, how she was scared, how she thought about _what would happen if I wiped out_.

Emily has another memory: of nearly four years ago, the first time she met Paige. She was excited, it was freshman year, and she was on her way to her first swim-practice where she was going to try out for the team. It was early morning and she'd asked her parents to let her walk to school. She wanted some time to shake off the nerves and excitement. She stepped into the cool morning air of the town. She could hear the song of the birds and felt the faint whisper of the morning breeze across her face. She was young, 14, invincible. She hadn't yet known that people could be hurt, friends could die, that people could be cruel and unkind, that they could hurt you and betray you. She wasn't yet under Alison DiLaurentis' spell, wasn't yet one of the chosen four, not yet one of the 'liars'.

She was crossing the intersection where the main link-road from the upper suburbs scurries downhill and crosses the street she was walking down. At this time of day she wasn't worried about cars or traffic and she was so engrossed in her own thoughts, so full of possibilities and potentials, that she didn't hear the click-click of the bike's chain, or the thrum of the bike's wheels on the tarmac, in fact it was not until she heard the exuberant _"Whoo-hoooooo"_ that she looked up, but by that point she was already half-way across the road.

Paige McCullers, at 14, rides her bike like she does most things: diving into a pool, swimming or running, playing or laughing: fearlessly, boldly. She rides her bike as if there were no such thing as death, or getting older – there's only now and here: only now she sees the girl step into the road just as she turns the corner in a wide arc. She knows the girl has seen her too late and is frozen into place on the road, she presses hard on the brakes, swerves to avoid the girl in the road and feels the wheels lose their grip, she knows she's tipped too far, her balance thrown and the bike crashes into a heap skidding along the gritty tarmac road. Her left arm and leg are dragged along the road taking off a top layer of skin, but her head is unhurt, though she'll be stiff and sore for a week after.

"Shiiit!"

Paige skids to a halt, lays for a moment watching the world upside down, sees the girl run over to her and stand above her. Even from this angle, even at age 14, Paige McCullers can tell that Emily Fields is going to be one of the beautiful girls. She sees her, her eyes lacing concern, her black hair hanging over her face, mouth twisted in fear,

"Oh my God! Are you ok?"

And Paige laughs, long, loud and raucous. Emily worries she's hit her head and has got concussion or something but when she looks she can't see any blood or any bumps. She crouches down and Paige, still laughing, rolls so she's on her side and Emily's no longer upside down, and she sees she wasn't quite right before, she already _is_ beautiful.

"Are you ok? I'm so sorry. I didn't look where I was going. I didn't think anyone else would be up at this time."

Paige manages to recover herself a little. She stops laughing and pulls herself up into a sitting position, wincing slightly at the pain that shoots through her arm and leg and the pain causes her to remember her dad _(and how mad he's gonna be if I don't get into the swim team 'cause I was messing on my bike)_ and she frowns involuntarily. Emily takes fear for pain,

"Is it painful? Are you hurt? Oh God, look at your arm, you're bleeding."

Paige finally looks down at her arm, she brushes away some of the dirt and flakes of skin come off at the same time, she draws in a breath, looks quickly at Emily and then just as quickly looks away again,

"I _think_ I'm ok. It hurts a bit."

She shifts again to lift herself up and Emily moves to slip an arm around her waist to support her. When she's on her feet again, Paige looks down at her leg, assessing the damage. She _should_ be ok to swim, she's had worse,

"Are _you_ ok?" she asks Emily,

"Oh, yes, I'm fine. You managed to avoid me." She chuckles lightly, remembering Paige's cry of delight as she rounded the corner and how it turned into the yelp of surprise as she saw her.

"What?"

"Nothing. You were just so … _excited_ to be turning the corner. I'm sorry I was in your way."

Paige dips her head, a little embarrassed, she reaches her good arm to scratch the back of her neck,

"You heard that, huh?"

"Yeah. It sounded fun."

Paige blushes and scrapes the toe of her sneakers along the tarmac, "Huh. It's a wild ride down that hill." _(Especially when you dare yourself not to use your brakes)._

Emily thinks _(I'm sorry I didn't mean to embarrass you)_ but she doesn't quite know how to tell her, doesn't want to embarrass her further, she tries a new tack,

"I'm Emily … Fields."

"Paige McCullers at your service." She winces as she forgets herself and tries to use her left arm to salute. Then she remembers where she is, and who she is and how she's in High School now and her friends are different and her mom's told her she has to stop acting so _boyish_ and she has to grow up and be a lady now. She scuffs her toe again and Emily sees something flash across her face that she doesn't recognise. Paige turns abruptly and reaches for her bike.

"Anyway. I gotta go. I'll see you."

And she's hopped up on her bike and cycled off before Emily gets a chance to say anything else, to ask what she was _doing_ there at that time of the morning, where she lived, if she was new and if she was going to school too, because, to Emily, she'd looked like she was about the same age, but she didn't recognise her, not yet.

But Paige recognised Emily. Once she'd stood up and got a good look at her face the right way up, she'd recognised her. She recognised her specifically from Spanish, where she sat two desks in front and three to the left of Paige, because Paige had spent most of yesterday carefully watching her, because something about Emily Fields fascinated Paige, if you'd have asked her, she wouldn't have been able to tell you what it was, just that _she looked nice,_ or _seemed kind_, that _she had a nice smile_, she didn't know anything else, not then, not yet.

Of course, they'd bumped into one another again less than an hour later at the swim trials and for a while they were on the way to becoming friends. Until Alison DiLaurentis stepped in and Emily's life was swept off on a different course altogether.

But for the first few months of High School, Emliy watched Paige. Something about her drew her towards her, Emily thought it was because of their first meeting: about the coincidence of it, of how special the streets had seemed at that time of the morning: as the dawn was just breaking and the low-slanting September sun was peeking through the clouds casting weird shadows of the buildings – elongated and sharp-edged – onto the sidewalks below. And how maybe they'd shared something unique something special.

After that first meeting, Emily watched Paige on her bike as she rode: she'd catch glimpses of her as she cycled to or from swim-practice, sometimes she'd see her in town, weaving her way through the traffic, she'd watch her concentration as she spotted a slight gap she could manoeuvre into, and Emily would wait for the faint kick of her hips and the flex of her arm muscles as she guided the bike into the space.

Emily liked best to watch Paige as she rode around town. She watched as she sped around the streets, riding as if she were beating the Devil. She rode like she _knew_ she had him licked: as if she knew that with one kick of her wheel, one shift of a gear she was off and away from him – that all he could do was lash out a despairing hand and she was gone: a smile on her face as wide as the road she rode on. At 14, Paige rode like she never believed the demons would catch up with her; but as time wore on, she began to realise that demons couldn't be outrun for ever and they started to weigh her down and catch at her back. She'd never believed that a demon could wear a human face: a _girl's_ face. Paige never believed that people would make fun of her for her eczema, that they'd call her names, but she heard them whispering in the changing rooms, heard Alison DiLaurentis' delight in her new name, her voice the voice of one who would always win: "_Pigskin"_ and how it whispered and followed her like tendrils through corridor and street.

Paige stopped riding like she could _beat_ the Devil and instead rode like a legion of devils were on her back. Her feelings for Emily, her competitiveness and her tomboyishness were all demons she carried. And Alison – the largest and the fiercest demon with the beautiful, cruel, heart-shaped face of a teenage girl. Paige was one of the freaks and the geeks and the nerds: the outcasts, the outsiders – hiding and trying never to be seen. The only place she found respite was in the swimming pool. Until Alison disappeared. Until Emily Fields knocked her off her course for the second time in her life. It was only when she started seeing Emily, both the first and the second time, only when she found the courage to come out, only when Alison DiLaurentis was dead and _(thankfully)_ buried did Paige's joy come back. And so did her fearlessness: she'd beaten the Devil – she'd survived, the Devil hadn't.

And then . . . She came back.

As for Emily, Paige was someone who she spent a little time with. They swam together most days in training. She found Paige funny, she recognised Paige's competitiveness as something she too had, although no one else really noticed it. She felt that from their first meeting, they had a connection, a story that they could tell. Until she fell under the spell of Alison and Paige along with everyone else fell away. Until she disappeared and Paige re-surfaced in her life.

But now Ali's back. And Paige is lost.

_They _are lost.

Emily sighs and turns away from her rain-streaked window, she closes her eyes: _(Be safe, Paige)._


	2. Chapter 2

**Finally, chapter two. Sorry it's taken so long but all the horrible anti-Paige/Paily stuff that was all around meant I lost my mojo for writing these two. But, after subsequent interviews etc. it's come back! I hope it's worth it. It's long, too long, but I think this is going to be a slow burn of a story. Sorry there's not much interaction between Em & Paige at the moment but I kind of like the longing of it. Sorry you don't get to read the letter (yet) but please don't get too hung up on it – it's just a device. I'll try and write something good for it, but I can't promise (I'm planning it, but it's nothing to look forward to at the moment).**

**Anyway, thanks for the lovely reviews for the first chapter and I hope this is worth the wait. **

**CHAPTER TWO: (Continues immediately after the end of Chapter One).**

**PAIGE's** bike wobbles slightly as she wipes the driving rain out of her eyes. Rain or tears she's not sure, both are mingled as she cycles away from Emily's house._ She doesn't want to see me. She won't even give me a chance._ It's been a month since Emily said _'Goodbye'_ and left her standing on her parents' front lawn, got in the car and drove off to save … _Alison_. Always Alison: Paige's own devil who sits grinning on her shoulder.

She's finding it hard to concentrate on the road ahead of her, the slick, wet tarmac under her tires making it hard to get purchase. She thinks back to a year ago when she rode in similar conditions to apologise to Emily for doing the worst thing she's ever done in her life. She thinks back to how she felt, how her demons crowded upon her, dragging her down, _wiping her out_. She could wipe out now, she could, and who would care? Who would notice? She can't live in a world where Emily chooses Alison: the girl who tormented her, who turned her mind so inside out that she thought her own parents would hate her for who she was.

She hears the car coming close behind her, sneaks a look, tires slipping on the slick road; the car is close, too close to her. She closes her eyes against the rain as a crack of thunder rings overhead, feels the car nick her back wheel and she wobbles dangerously. The car shifts to overtake and if she falls; if the tires slip and the bike falls she'll slip under the wheels. A momentary thought, a brief wish flits through her mind – _to wipe out_. But something is stronger. Something that'll keep Paige McCullers safe almost against her will. It's what Alison came up against when she thought she could break Paige; what Nate came up against when he thought he could hurt her – her will to live, to survive, to win. Her knuckles are white as she grips the handlebars, in her effort to steady the bike she stands up on the pedals, shifts her hips, muscles work under her soaking shirt as she rights it, holds it up, keeps it from falling.

PAM hears the car pull up outside the house, worries for a moment what it could mean, her first thought is fear for Emily after all these terrible things that seem to have happened to her these past two years; then for her husband – for his heart, his job. She mutes the television and listens, recognises Emily's voice as she shouts her goodbyes and shuts the car door. Pam worries again about her beautiful daughter: she shouldn't be in this early from a date. If it were up to Pam, she'd be happier if Emily was out on her date with Paige. Even though Pam had her reservations at first, she has to admit Emily was happy with Paige; seemed safe with Paige. Pam knows Paige would never knowingly put Emily in danger, would never knowingly hurt her, would do whatever she could to love and cherish her. And she sees how unhappy Emily's been since they've broken up. And she has to admit she was more than a little shocked by how pale and thin Paige looked when she'd delivered that letter.

The letter. Pam sighs. She'd cleared out Emily's trash after she'd gone out and she'd noticed the letter, ripped up and discarded in anger, unread. She thought about taking it out, saving it, knowing that Emily would regret it if she never read it, but after Maya and everything that happened between her and her daughter because of that, she swore she'd never interfere again. So, she'd left it, thrown it into the kitchen trash, where her own rubbish had followed slowly but surely covering it over.

Pam calls as cheery a 'hi' as she can muster and waits for Emily to pop her head around the door. Instead, Emily gives a quiet response and heads upstairs. Pam knows from the tone of her voice that she's crying.

Pam's right. Emily's date was a disaster. She doesn't know what the hell Ali was thinking setting them up: the girl's a vapid, soulless rich-bitch. Emily isn't usually so judgmental, but all she'd heard about was Courtney's father's yacht on Cape May, the horse she had stabled close to Rosewood and how much her Prom dress was going to cost. And she'd tried. She _thinks_ she'd tried. She tried to see what the hell Ali saw in her, why she was so keen for them to 'hook up', tried to understand why Ali thought they'd be _'so perfect together'_. But she'd never been a girl who was into clothes in the way that Hanna and Ali were, she didn't care about the latest Laboutins, or this season's handbags. And this girl sure as hell wasn't interested in sports or swimming. The restaurant they'd been in was too expensive, the food too rich and Emily, even though she was no longer training, still wasn't into drinking.

And then there was Paige. She'd spent more time that evening than she'd care to admit thinking about Paige. Worrying about Paige. Afraid that she wouldn't have gotten home safely. Afraid that in the state she knew Paige was in that Paige wouldn't be taking care of herself, afraid that she may do something stupid. Then she got angry, as the evening wore on and as she enjoyed herself less and less her anger grew. Anger that she was there, having to listen to this bland, ridiculous girl's conversation, there in the too-expensive restaurant, rather than laughing and joking with Paige: listening to her stupid stories, and her plans about their future: where they'd travel to: Europe and South America where they'd backpack and sit up to watch the sun rise over Machu Picchu. Rather than watching, laughing, as Paige showed her how to suck up her coffee through her candy bar and choking, spray coffee and half-chewed chocolate down herself. Rather than the two of them sharing Emily's headphones, lying side-by-side on her bed reading, holding hands, until she'd stop when she realised Paige had stopped reading ages ago and was just watching her, a stupid, soppy smile on her face and how she'd lean forward and kiss Emily gently, so gently, her tongue ghosting over Emily's lip.

But Emily's anger grew as the evening wore on. _How dare she_? How dare she ride over on a night when she _knew_ Emily would worry about her: in a damn _storm_ for God's sake. How dare she ride over here like everything was the same as before and drop off a _letter_. A letter. The last thing Emily wanted from Paige was a letter. After the last one: the one that caused all the pain, that led to Emily not believing she could trust Paige anymore; after asking her not to; after _warning_ her what would happen. But she'd done it anyway because Paige was stupidly, stupidly impulsive and stupidly, stupidly stubborn. She wondered who'd told her about Emily's date. Maybe Spencer? She wondered how Paige had taken it. And she wondered what the hell had prompted her to ride over here to give her a letter on a night when she was supposed to be out enjoying herself on a date. And she wondered, despite herself, what the letter said.

She gets changed and slips under the covers, feeling them cool on her skin she shivers slightly. As she closes her eyes, wishing for sleep, her mind assaults her with images she really doesn't want: Paige underneath her, sighing. Emily pictures her body, her swimmer's shoulders, her taut stomach, the way her breath used to catch as Emily kissed her neck; the laugh quickly followed by a sigh as Emily traced a line between her breasts, down to the mole at the side of her stomach and she remembers how sometimes, when she wanted to tease, her tongue would slip sideways into Paige's belly-button and they'd have to muffle their laughter so no one would hear. Her hand slips beneath the covers and into her underwear - she's wet, always wet when she thinks of Paige. She knows she shouldn't let herself think like this, knows she shouldn't let the fantasy continue, but she can't help it, can't stop it and it's Paige's name she sighs out as her fingers work. She wipes the tears away from her cheek.

PAige made it home safely and managed to slip into the house without bumping into her parents, she didn't want to have to explain why she was soaking wet, why she was crying – though she thinks they'd know. She creeps upstairs to her room and towels her hair dry – mind racing: at how she'd survived, again. Her Will to Live seemingly stronger than her wish to die. She feels like something has shifted in her. She was terrified when she first heard Alison was alive, even more afeard when she knew she was back in Rosewood and the first day she walked into school, flanked by Emily and the rest of the girls, she felt her knees buckle a little. Since then she's been watching to see how Alison's return has affected the others. The other freaks and the geeks, the other victims and she's seen how all those who'd begun to blossom when Alison disappeared have begun to fade now she's back. It's a defence mechanism and it's something that she's experienced herself. The wish to fade away and disappear the only way to stop the glare of Alison's piercing eyes. Paige had tried to take her on and it had changed her nearly irrevocably. But she'd survived before. She'd survive again. And after tonight, she was more sure than ever that she'd be ok. She may not have Emily, but she had swimming, she had a scholarship, she was getting out of here soon – away from Alison DiLaurentis' web, far away to where she'd never find her. She'd be ok. It'd all be ok.

Around the same time as Emily gets home and retreats to her bed, Paige too slips into cold sheets, although hers are a cool, blue linen. She too fights the pictures, the voices and the memories of Emily and her together that crowd into her mind. But she's trained herself over the years and slips into old habits – she's a Puritan in her training and she'll take some perverse pleasure in not giving into her thoughts, her desires. She spent most of her years at High School blocking out thoughts of Emily Fields – she just has to remember how she did it. She reaches to her side-table and finds her iPod, plugging herself in she scrolls through till she finds an upbeat playlist – it'll never help her to sleep, but it'll keep her from thoughts of Emily. She shifts until she's upright, propped on her pillows, knees pulled up to her chest. The only movement she makes for the next two hours is when she wipes her eyes dry.

Emily's not so successful. Her mind spinning between her anger at Paige and her longing for her … caught between the desire and the betrayal. She can't fight it anymore, she has to know what Paige's letter said, she'd ripped up the letter before reading it and thrown it in her trash, but she had Scotch tape – the rips had been clean enough she was sure she'd be able to mend it. After putting on her bedside lamp she gets out of bed and over to the trash. But it's empty – she curses, not for the first time, her mum's efficiency. She can't very well creep downstairs now and rummage through the kitchen trash, she'll have to wait until morning. Back in bed, she lies, eyes wide open, waiting for sleep.

She's up early, before Pam, she's still used to early mornings from her swimming practice days so the coffee's on and breakfast made by the time Pam makes it down. Emily thinks she has a little more perspective this morning. In the cool light of a winter's morning, her anger is a clean, brittle thing a sliver of ice in her brain where thoughts of Paige used to be. _She had no right_. So she resists the temptation to rummage through the trash to find the letter – _I don't need to read it. If she's got something to say, she can damn well _say_ it_. Pam takes a moment to appraise Emily as she comes into the kitchen,

"Hello, love. How are you?"

"Hi, mom. I'm ok."

"How was your date?" Emily shrugs, makes a face, tries to smile,

"She's not really my type."

Pam hums a response, takes a breath wondering if she should plough on or leave it, she decides, against her better judgement, to continue, "Well. It's probably a little soon."

"That's what Spencer said."

"Well, perhaps you should listen to Spencer."

Emily sighs, pushes her hair away from her face, "Perhaps."

"Emmy? I … I know you don't want to tell me and I won't push you for details, but _what happened_ between you and Paige? You seemed so happy. And she seemed so …" she searches for the right word and all she can come up with is, "_broken_ when she came here last night."

Emily flinches, she feels the word like a punch in her gut, her voice has a catch when she finally speaks, "D-did she?"

But she can't let that change anything, has to keep up her anger, she can't cope with what she sees as Paige's betrayal, her ultimatum still sticks deep in Emily's throat when she thinks of it; she hasn't yet considered that Paige felt she had no other choice, felt that she too had been served some sort of caveat. She shrugs,

"Well. She should have thought it through."

"What _did_ happen, Emmy? Did she cheat?" Emily nearly laughs, the idea of Paige cheating on her is so far from the reality of their relationship. She raises an eyebrow at her mother who flushes, gives a small laugh in response and stammers out, "No, no, of course not." Then something hits her, "did _you_? Are you seeing someone? Emily, you _know_ that's not how we brought you up."

"Mom! Calm down. No one cheated. I went on that disastrous date last night, remember? As if I'd put myself through that if I was seeing someone." She sighs, takes a sip of her coffee, "No, mom, no one cheated. I-it's more _complicated_ than that." They wait, the sounds of the birds chirruping their songs in the trees outside the window fill the room, "It was more of a – a _betrayal_."

"A betrayal? What do you mean?"

Emily's anger rises, this is why she didn't want to discuss it. She can't explain it and it's no one's business. She bounces her cup into the kitchen sink,

"I told you, I don't want to talk about it." She pulls her jacket on and lifts her hair out of the collar, "I have to go. I have to meet the others before we get to school."

PAIGE is at her locker, she watches as the people she used to consider 'her kind' slink down the halls of Rosewood High. She recognises them in the way their gaze is never on anyone's face, eyes kept downcast and she knows that the fear is ten-fold now Alison's back. She wishes she could let them know that you don't have to be afraid anymore – you can beat the demons, beat the very devil herself if you want: just by believing in yourself; believing in a future; believing it'll get better. She knows she's changed, had an epiphany of sorts. She'll love Emily the way she always did before – from afar; she'll keep an eye on her – if she can help, well then, she will. She knows she'll never stop loving Emily, it would be like she'd stopped breathing and would die a slow, terrible death. But she also knows that she isn't what Emily wants at the moment. She has a sense that Emily has her own demons she needs to topple and that she can't commit to anything or anyone until she does. She's almost cheerful by the time a bright voice calls to her down the hallway,

"Hey! McCullers! Wait up!"

Paige smiles and lifts her head to where the voice is coming from, "Hey, Sydney."

_Yeah_, Paige thinks, _I can get through. I'll work hard and swim hard, get away from here _'Safe, and starting a new life', she thinks then hurriedly shakes the memory off.

She's glad Sydney's transferred to Rosewood. Paige likes her, her dry humour, her outsider's eye, likes that she hasn't had to pick sides. She also likes that Sydney's straight, that it means there's no awkwardness, nothing uncomfortable, no expectations, unlike with some of the other girls on the swim team who seemed to think she's fair game now they know she and Emily have broken up.

Sydney slopes up and leans against Paige's locker. She asks about her evening, they talk about the storm, how scared Sydney was 'cause she lives up on the hill and felt like the lightening was going to flash through the chimneys and roam around the house, making Paige laugh. Sydney's expression alters, she quirks an eyebrow and gives a half-smile, nodding her head towards the large double doors at the end of the corridor. Paige glances over her shoulder to see what she's looking at as Sydney says,

"Ooh, check it out, here come the Heathers."

Alison, flanked by Emily one side, Aria the other, Hanna and Spencer following up the rear. Alison likes to make an entrance, always did and Paige thinks back to two years before when this would be the time when the corridors would empty and students scatter like the moment a bird of prey looms above and the woodland creatures scurry for their holes. She used to dread being caught like this, there'd be the inevitable fist to her heart when she caught sight of Emily (that was still there) and then the fear would creep in, the worry that today would be another day when Alison chose you. She remembers how conflicted she was, how caught between loving Emily and hating her and her friends for the fact that they never stepped in, never stopped it, that they were like those Stepford Wives in the old film she'd seen the other night, beautiful, but empty. She's almost dragged back in, almost feels the fear rising, almost drops her eyes, until she hears a snort of derision beside her and Sydney laughs, turns so she's looking away from the group, across to the other side of the hallway, she shakes her head and leans her back against the lockers,

"They should really ask that the school organises some kind of music for their entrance, and some fans to really get the best out of all that _fabulous_ hair."

Paige laughs openly, eyes catching Alison's, sees the flinty steel running deep under the blue, they're not warm, not kind. She slides her eyes away from Alison's and catches Emily's gaze. There's a moment, still, that they have yet to get past, and they don't know how friendly to be to one another. She gives Emily more a grimace than a smile, wonders if she read her letter, wonders what she thinks. Hanna and Spencer are still friendly, they mumble a 'hi, Paige' that she returns and catches something in Spencer's face that makes her pause.

Paige watches them go, sees them split to go to their separate lessons. Sydney's still talking, the group means nothing to her, she sees them as just the 'It' girls of the school. Paige has yet to fill her in. She catches the time on Sydney's watch,

"Oh, shit, come on, I gotta go." She's got Chemistry and hates being late otherwise she has to share a bench with someone she doesn't like, "You around for lunch?"

Sydney pushes herself off the lockers, shoulders her bag that was slung between her feet and, with a smirk, bounces off to her lesson. Paige sighs.

IN the cafeteria, Paige is sitting with the swim team, Sydney to her left. They're at one of the central tables facing out through the window onto the courtyard. She raced to get to lunch early, she has a theory she wanted to test. A few moments later, she's unwrapped her lunch. She's been waiting and is aware, as always, as if there's still some kind of line or thread that connects them together, of Emily's presence in the room. She doesn't even have to turn round, there's a frisson that she's associated with Alison's arrival in a room and a number of students pack up and leave. Paige waits. Sydney's telling her about the amazing plans she has for her next weekend with her boyfriend and Paige is listening politely. But she's also waiting. There's a table two rows over in between the table she's sitting at and the window. There are other tables, but it's this one she's focused on. She's counting, waiting. _3,2,1_. And there it is, Alison slips into the seat on the table that means she's almost directly opposite Paige. Paige can see her organising the group so that Emily is sat to her side, in profile, but Paige is able to read every expression, Aria is next to Alison and Hanna and Spencer are opposite with their backs to her. Paige watches as Alison holds court, sees how every now and then she pointedly looks across to Paige, tilts her head up and holds her gaze. It's not a friendly look: it's a look of triumph, _she thinks she's won_, Paige thinks.

Paige feels Sydney scoot up her chair closer to her,

"So what's Regina George's problem with you, then?"

Paige is shocked, "Wh-what?"

Sydney grabs a sandwich from Paige's lunchbox and before she can protest takes a big bite from it, mouth full, she nods towards the Liars' table, "Her. Golden girl. What's her beef with you?'

Paige shakes her head, incredulous, "Why?"

"Well, every day, wherever you sit, she always sits herself down opposite you and spends most of lunchtime glaring at you. You must have noticed." She leans back on her chair and raises an eyebrow, feigning shock, "Oh my God. Is she the one?"

"What _one_? What the hell are you talking about? Stop talking in riddles."

Sydney laughs, "The one who broke your heart. The one you're never going to get over ever until the day you die." She falls into a mock swoon, falling onto Paige's shoulder. Much as she's joking and Paige knows it, she can't help that her heart lurches a little, "I gotta admit, I wouldn't have thought she was your type. She seems kind of like a bitch. But it takes all sorts."

Paige is torn. Torn between laughing, torn between lying, torn between telling the truth. It'd be good to have someone to talk to. Paige takes a breath,

"No. She's not the one. It's a long story and I promise I'll tell you all about it one day. But no, she's not the one. She was Queen Bee in the school from when we were Juniors, and you're right, she's kind of a bitch" (_and them some_, she thinks) "and a bully. And, let's just say, we clashed a little." Paige shrugs, "Me and her and a lot of other kids in this school."

"Ok. So, why is she focused on you?"

"Honestly? I don't know. Well, I'm not sure."

Paige looks over at the table, at Alison, sneaks a glance at Emily, but her face is turned away, deep in conversation with Aria. Alison seems to sense Paige's interest, she turns to face Paige, she raises an eyebrow and lifts her hand so it brushes across Emily's shoulder and rests at the back of Emily's neck. Paige sees Emily's puzzlement, sees her glance at Alison, notices with a pang the blush that darkens her cheek. Then Alison moves her arm, smirks in Paige's direction and turns her head away.

"It's Emily." Paige is annoyed that she hears her voice crack as she says Emily's name.

Sydney looks puzzled, "Emily? What's Emily? Who's Emily?"

Paige sighs, "Emily Fields. The girl. The one who broke my heart. She's sitting over there. Next to Alison."

Sydney cranes her neck, leaning in front of Paige to catch a look, she leans back and whistles, long and low, "Wow. No disrespect McCullers, but you were punching well above your weight." Paige pushes her arm, but Sydney laughs affectionately, "Nah I'm just joking, you two must have been quite the beautiful couple."

"Are you paying me a compliment? Careful, you may get used to it."

They laugh and Paige misses the slightly longing glance Emily throws in her direction at the familiar sound of Paige's laugh. Emily watches Paige and Sydney, feels a slight pull on her insides that she doesn't want to admit, but knows it can't be anything else but jealousy. She's noticed Paige and the new, and she hates to admit, beautiful girl hanging around a lot lately. She sighs, closes her eyes, thinks again of the letter, of how she felt last night, tries to hold onto her anger, until she's pulled back into the conversation by Alison's question.

"Is it definitely over?" Sydney asks.

"I don't know. I …" Paige remembers how Pam told her Emily didn't want to see her last night, "I think so." And she looks so sad that even Sydney can't bring herself to tease her. Instead she smiles kindly and gives her arm a squeeze.


End file.
